


Henry Vieuxtemps

by mysteriousmice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Sherlock's Violin, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriousmice/pseuds/mysteriousmice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John loves it when Sherlock plays the violin. John/Sherlock violin!porn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Henry Vieuxtemps

**Author's Note:**

> (pornpornpornpornporn i'm not good at pornpornpornpornporn)

John loved it when Sherlock played the violin.  
The way his fingers danced across the strings, the sharp, beautiful movements of his bow, the way he closed his eyes as the pressure rose and fell, the crescendo and decrescendo of the melodies he chose... John often found himself sitting and just watching Sherlock play for hours.  
There was one particular night that changed everything, though.  
It was a cold night in autumn, and John had sat down with a cup of tea. Sherlock stood near the window, fingering the strings of his violin and staring into the distance.  
He lifted it to his chin and jumped into a song, his lips pressed in a firm line. It started slow, swelling upwards, and John closed his eyes for a moment as the melody took him over.  
When he opened his eyes again, he certainly didn't expect to see Sherlock's dressing gown slipping down to his shoulders. But for some reason, he didn't mind at all.  
Sherlock's turned a bit, his eyes focusing on John as he played. John tensed up. The stare was intense, and... well, it was sexy, for lack of a better word. He could do nothing but watch as Sherlock stepped closer to his chair, facing him as his dressing gown continued to slowly descend, catching itself only on Sherlock's elbows. His chest was now mostly exposed. John wondered to himself if Sherlock was wearing any pants underneath the robe. He certainly didn't see any trousers.  
He was so focused on this particular detail that he hardly noticed when the song ended and Sherlock set his violin on the floor.  
John's face heated up as Sherlock's eyes trailed down his body and then back up before offering his hand. Almost involuntarily, John rose to his feet and took it. Sherlock led him to his bedroom.  
Neither of them spoke as John climbed onto Sherlock's bed and laying propped against the bedframe while Sherlock climbed over him. Lips pressed against his own swiftly, a dexterous hand reaching behind his head to pull his face closer. Sherlock's tongue flicked against John's lower lip and he opened wider. His entire body seemed to heat up and he shuddered as Sherlock's tongue slipped between his lips, tickling against his palate. Sherlock's free hand tugged at John's shirt. He shifted his weight a bit, devoting both of his hands to unbuttoning the first three buttons on John's shirt before he got frustrated and tore it off. John heard the sound of buttons bouncing onto the floor. He'd have to fix that later.  
Sherlock's long fingers traced circles on John's abdomen, coaxing a groan from his lips.  
Sherlock pulled away from John's lips and moved down to his jawline. John's hands gripped at the blue dressing gown and then at his flatmate's bare shoulders.  
Sherlock's tongue trailed down to John's neck, where he sucked and nipped a bit, leaving a mark. A hand stroked its way up John's chest and he brushed his thumb over a nipple. Another groan escaped John's throat as he arched up into the touch. The other hand dipped underneath the hemline of his trousers.  
It wasn't long before those same trousers were tossed to the side along with the blue dressing gown, and Sherlock's face was no longer on his neck and chest but instead his mouth was sucking at John's length. John had absolutely no control of the noises he was making and his hips jolted up harshly against Sherlock as he took his length in his mouth.  
It didn't take long for John to finish in Sherlock's mouth, gripping at the sheets as he moaned. Sherlock swallowed and John lurched forward and above Sherlock.  
His lips tasted like semen a Sherlock took his own length in his hands and finished in a few short strokes on their stomachs.  
John pulled away and flopped back onto the bed, panting and sticky and breathless. Sherlock curled up beside him, staring with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile.  
“Wow,” John managed after a moment of silence. “What was that, then?”  
“Henry Vieuxtemps,” murmured Sherlock.


End file.
